What if you dial 911 and nobody shows up?

CONTRIBUTED PHOTO, THE MORNING CALL

George DeVault of Upper Milford Township, now retired from firefighting after 30 years with two local companies, hopes his new book will boost people's appreciation for volunteer firefighters. It's not available yet in stores, but can be found at amazon.com.

George DeVault of Upper Milford Township, now retired from firefighting after 30 years with two local companies, hopes his new book will boost people's appreciation for volunteer firefighters. It's not available yet in stores, but can be found at amazon.com. (CONTRIBUTED PHOTO, THE MORNING CALL)

Sooner or later, somebody's going to dial 911, and the 911 center is going to dispatch a fire department and nobody's going to show up. That's where we're headed."— State Fire Commissioner Edward Mann in 2014 testimony to a state legislative committee.

If you detect admiration when I write about volunteer firefighting, you're right.

I saw their dedication firsthand late one Christmas Eve when hot coals in our garbage can set the side of the garage on fire, threatening to spread to our house.

We came very close to a much larger disaster, but we spotted the flames in time, and I was able to drag the can away from the house and douse the fire with our garden hose. Volunteer firemen arrived quickly and made sure the fire wouldn't rekindle.

I was impressed by their fast response and thoroughness — and mortified that my stupidity rousted them from their homes on Christmas Eve.

As I pointed out in my recent column about a four-generation firefighting family, dedicated volunteer firefighters must resign themselves to interrupted dinners, holidays, family events and certainly sleep. They're not only awakened in the middle of the night to rush to a fire or accident scene, they're still responsible for making it to work the next morning. In many cases, they and their families also are expected to work hard raising money for equipment, training and other expenses.

Not everyone is willing to make that commitment, particularly if they're working multiple jobs or splitting child-care duties with a spouse who also works. The fact that you could be injured and even killed doesn't help.

The result?

"Where we used to have 25 guys responding to a fire call," said Tim Solobay, new state fire commissioner and chief of the Canonsburg Volunteer Fire Department, "now you're looking to get four or five."

Former local firefighter George DeVault of Upper Milford Township, in his new book "Fire Call! Sounding the Alarm to Save Our Vanishing Volunteers" — available at amazon.com — began his first chapter: "On a good day, our biggest firetruck carries a crew of five. Today is not a good day. It's a weekday, the time when the fewest volunteers can respond to a fire call. We're heading to a roaring house fire [in which someone is reported trapped inside] with a crew of two."

According to testimony before the state House Veterans Affairs and Emergency Preparedness Committee last year, Pennsylvania's ranks of volunteer firefighters shrank from 300,000 in 1977 to about 50,000 in 2014.

"Everybody's lives are much busier than they used to be," Solobay said. "For the younger generation, volunteerism and community service aren't part of what they're thinking of. Husbands and wives are working, maybe second and third jobs to pay off school debt or just make ends meet."

A 2001 report on Pennsylvania emergency services noted that time pressure when it said, "Firefighters today respond to not only fire calls but also to automobile accidents, hazardous-materials incidents, threats of terrorism and emergency medical calls — all requiring intensive training and specific response equipment."

Solobay said the potential danger involved and tragic situations they face also can make the job seem less attractive today. He sees it with some young trainees, finding themselves as first responders at fires, car accidents, drug overdoses.

"When they see some of the things they have to do and see out at the scene, they turn their pagers and gear in and say, 'You know what? I can't face that stuff.'"

In their testimony to that House committee, Edward Mann and others also cited firehouse politics and the time devoted to fundraising and training as impediments to attracting younger volunteers.

With fewer, older volunteers and rising costs — including mutual aid agreements that may help address staffing shortages but also lead to more distant and frequent calls — many departments have reached out to their home communities for additional funding help, not always successfully.

Solobay said firemen may feel: " 'Hey, I don't see you making police officers sell hoagies to get guns, or the street guys go out and have bingo to get a new truck.' People tell you, 'I joined the department because I wanted to give back to my community. I didn't want to spend 90 percent of my time raising money to do something I'm doing for free.'"

The economic impact of losing our volunteer fire departments would be staggering. Nationwide, according to one estimate, fire volunteers save American taxpayers $139.8 billion. That 2001 report estimated the impact in Pennsylvania at $6 billion, and I'm sure it's greater today.

Since DeVault, who spent 30 years with two departments, decided to write his book in part to encourage people to better support volunteer firefighters, I asked him if people understand how much we owe them.

"People don't have a clue," he answered. "But whenever problems arise and someone dials 911, they expect the cavalry to come running."